There was no wind-up. No telegraphed animation. One second she was standing there, the next she was a blur of silver light.
I didn't dodge. I couldn't dodge. My agility stat was basically a negative integer. I just fell over.
The sword slashed the stone wall where my head had been a microsecond ago. Sparks showered down, burning holes in my sleeve.
"Jesus!" I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline finally overriding the pain. "Okay, fine! You want to play hardball? I made you, and I can unmake you!"
I focused on her sword.
[Object: Star-Caller_Blade]
[Rarity: Legendary]
[Owner: Seraphina]
My right eye throbbed as I summoned the command line. The headache was blinding, like a hot needle piercing my skull, but I pushed through it.
`> Select Target: [Star-Caller]`
`> Action: [DELETE]`
I snapped my fingers.
Nothing vanished.
Instead, a shockwave blasted out from the sword. The air rippled. A golden barrier—a literal hexagon of light—flashed around the weapon.
[Error 403: Forbidden Action.]
[Target possesses trait: 'Plot Armor (Tier 1)'.]
[Cannot modify Key Quest Items.]
The feedback loop slammed into my brain. It felt like I’d just stuck a fork in a toaster. I reeled back, clutching my head.
"Plot armor," I gasped, laughing hysterically. "I gave her so much plot armor she's immune to the delete key. That is... that is terrible game design."
Seraphina didn't pause to appreciate the irony. She swung again.
This time, the flat of the blade caught me in the ribs.
CRACK.
I went flying. I hit the dirt hard, rolling until I slammed into the base of a glitching statue. My vision swam. The UI was freaking out, throwing up so many error windows I couldn't see the world.
[Warning: Ribs fractured.]
[Warning: Internal hemorrhage detected.]
[Warning: Plot relevance decreasing.]
Seraphina stood over me. She didn't look winded. She didn't look sweaty. She looked like a cover art illustration.
"Stand up," she commanded.
"Give me... a minute," I coughed. Blood—real, warm blood—spattered onto the digital ground.
"You never gave us a minute," she said softly. She raised the sword, point down, aiming for my heart. "You wrote us into corners. You forced us to fight when we were tired. You made us bleed for your readers' entertainment."
"It's a story!" I yelled, staring up at the tip of the blade. "None of you are real! You're just code! You're zeroes and ones pretending to be people!"
Her expression didn't change. "If I am not real, Arthur, then why are you bleeding?"
She thrust the sword down.
I tried to roll. I tried to scream. I tried to find the [Log Out] button that I knew didn't exist.
The blade pierced my chest.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.